My Grandma was on the front page of our newspaper with an account of witnessing the hysteria of the Centralia Massacre of 1919. She had just turned 12 at the time. I attended her 97th birthday gala on Oct. 30th in fact. Here is the story transferred to my .Mac page.<br><br>Thursday, November 11, 2004<br><...ralia Massacre.<br><br>

Interesting article! Thanks...never heard of that massacre. Your grandma sure has seen a lot happen in her life!<br><br>

Thanks for sharing the history.<br><br>

Cool story. Tell her to mention that she also saw the Red Sox win the World Series the year before and you could get the story published on the front page of the Boston Globe.<br><br><br><br>

We already had our front page Red Sox story Poly. Here is the text just for you.<br>Pitcher’s mother-in-law shares in Red Sox victory <br>Monday, November 01, 2004 <br>By Pat Jones<br><br>Editor’s note: Millions of baseball fans followed the World Series that concluded five days ago. Pat Jones, The Chronicle’s lifestyle editor, did so from an uncommon perspective. Here, she recounts her close-up view of the October classic. <br><br>I was lucky enough to be in St. Louis on Wednesday when Keith Foulke, the closer for the Boston Red Sox, caught a ground ball hit by St. Louis Cardinals’ infielder Edgar Renteria. Keith caught, then tossed, the ball to Red Sox first baseman Doug Mientkiewicz for the out. That toss will go down in baseball history, as it ended the ninth inning and gave Boston a 3-0 win over the Cardinals — as well as a sweep of the World Series. Sitting next to me during that game was Keith’s wife, Mandy, holding her nearly 1-year-old son, Kade. On the other side of Mandy and Kade sat Keith’s parents, Chuck and Pauline Foulke. Silence reigned for a heartbeat as St. Louis fans came to recognize their dreams of a World Series title had just been shattered, and Red Sox fans came to recognize an 86-year-old curse had been lifted and the Red Sox were now World Series champions. Crying with joy and pride, Mandy asked “Mom, can you believe it?” I’m Mandy’s mother, making Keith my son-in law, and making me very proud. In an instant it was time for us to go out onto the field for a celebration that included hugs, shouts and champagne. But, before we could get there, we had to run the gauntlet of adoring Red Sox fans. At one point, as we neared the turnoff that would lead us to the field, a newspaper photographer pushed me from behind and told me to “move” so she could get through. I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted to, so I ignored her. This exchange took only seconds, but by the time I turned back around, my family, and everyone else I might recognize, was gone. For a moment I panicked as I was alone and crushed by a sea of humanity. I got my wits about me and traveled a short time against the flow, until I got some space and my bearings. I climbed over a short rail until I could figure out how to get onto the field. Luckily, I had kept on my orange “family” wristband that allowed me access to the field, and an understanding security guard allowed me to pass. It took me a moment to compose myself and find my family. Keith had not yet joined the family when I arrived, and when he did, he already had on his World Series T-shirt and cap that, by then, were drenched with champagne. He also carried a bottle of champagne that we all shared. It must have been my night for being pushed because, as I stood in awe observing all this, someone big, strong and in a hurry shoved me aside. Having had enough abuse, I began to let this guy have it until I recognized it was Curt Schilling, the Red Sox pitcher. I’m thankful that all I got out of my mouth, as I spun around to let this guy have it, was “Hey!” I don’t even think he heard me. The Red Sox didn’t have much time to celebrate as their team jet was leaving St. Louis for Boston at 2 a.m., just hours after their victory. The celebration would come later on the plane and on Saturday during a parade in Boston in their honor. We made our way into the bowels of the stadium, through the Red Sox dugout, where a party room had been set up. Keith’s mother and I agreed to take Kade back to the hotel and get him to bed. I was exhausted and got into my own jammies after rocking a very tired little boy to sleep. I washed bottles, folded Kade’s clothes, and gathered items that were strewn hither and yon until Mandy came and Pauline went to her room to pack. Having decided earlier that I wasn’t going to go back to Boston with them, I was suddenly left alone in a room too large for just one person and too quiet for words. I knew I needed to get some sleep, but before I could do that, I had to call downstairs for a wake-up call. It was 2:30 a.m. and my flight was at 8:30 a.m. I don’t know what time I actually got to sleep because Red Sox fans, 14 floors below my window, were chanting and cheering for what seemed like hours. I was up again at 5:30 a.m. and quickly on my way to the airport — a good thing I got there when I did, because the airport was absolutely swamped. Finally in my seat on the aircraft, and exhausted but too wired to sleep, I began thinking of my family. Keith married my daughter in 1997, and on Nov. 10, 2003, the two of them gave us Kade Charles Foulke, the grandson for whom my husband, Craig, and I had been longing, and the apple of our eyes. The first time we met Keith was in 1993 during the Thanksgiving break at Lewis-Clark State College in Lewiston, Idaho. We lived in Boise at the time, and Mandy was a freshman at that college. She had brought Keith, a junior, home to meet us. It’s the college from which the San Francisco Giants drafted Keith before trading him to the Chicago White Sox. Keith also played one year with Oakland before signing with Boston this year. I’ll never forget what Keith said to me during his first visit, as we sat around the kitchen table and I questioned him about himself, his intentions toward my daughter, and his dreams. In what I assumed, then, was the arrogance of youth, he told me he was going to become a major league ballplayer and make millions. I politely smiled at him while inwardly thinking, “Yeah, right.” I remember being slightly comforted by his assertion that, should baseball not work out, he was considering becoming a police officer like his father, or would practice sports medicine. Those were jobs I could get my mind around. This table discussion has become part of our family lore. Now, back at home and work, the reality of having been part of the Boston Red Sox win over St. Louis has finally sunk in. I wore a Red Sox cap to work on Friday (it’s a casual day at The Chronicle), and told and retold the tale I’m telling here. So much had happened during the short time I was in St. Louis. I arrived Tuesday evening just in time to attend the first of possibly three games. If all three games had had to be played, with no winner declared, I had planned to fly back to Boston for the final games. I wound up sleeping the first night in a room adjoining Johnny Damon’s. I have a huge crush on Damon, the Boston center fielder, and Mandy thought it funny that I was sleeping one thin door away from Damon and his fiancee. Honestly, it was kind of weird. First thing the next morning, I wound up going to breakfast with Kade and his other grandparents. After a while I returned Kade to his mother, packed my barely unpacked bag, and moved to the room that was part of the suite Keith, Mandy and Kade were staying in. Kade and I ate lunch in the room while his father and mother shopped. Living high on the hog, we wound up sharing a hamburger and grilled cheese sandwiches. We later took a walk to the famous St. Louis arch, and hung out in the room until Mandy and Keith returned and it was time to get ready for the game. We were all a little nervous and Keith was a little quiet. Accustomed as he is to stressful situations, this stress was somehow different. It was, after all the World Series. All he said was, “I hope we win tonight. I’m ready for this to be over.” His feelings about that spectacular win, and his part in it, could be seen on his face on front pages of newspapers and television screens all across the country and the world. If you’re looking for Keith (No. 29) in the victory pileup photos, however, you won’t find him— he was buried beneath a mountain of Red Sox players. ••• Pat Jones covers arts and entertainment and lifestyle stories for The Chronicle. <br><br> <br><br>

John no one ever talked about this until the early 1990s. The newspaper never even printed anything much until then. The men involved were never investigated and there are people in town that still are very uncomfortable with it but not too many now.<br>Granny also had to be evacuated off Kodiak Island during the devastating earthquake in 1964. The family didn't know for 3 days if she, my aunt and two cousins survived. Early news reports said everyone on the island was killed. Luckily they were wrong.<br><br>You are welcome MacTico.<br><br>

Cool- I love little mysteries that exist in little towns that "no one talks about to this day"- sounds very Stephen King-ish.<br><br><br><br>[color:red]C'mon...you know me.</font color=red>

Love the story. I'm saving up the Boston Globe Special Edition and all the rest to read over the winter and keep me warm until spring training. I'm still waiting for the DVD version of the New York division Series and the World Series.<br><br>Channel 4 in Boston has this 15 minute synopsis film out which is a good one. The Anaheim Series is very upbeat shot with shaky camera. Then we move to the Yankees and it becomes very somber slow moving shot in black and white. The three games we lose are all scratched movieola as we watch Jeter, Matsui and A-Rod jumping up and down. Then it changes to overblown color just like when Alice steps out of the house that kills the Wicked Witch with the ruby slippers. Dave Roberts steals second. Ortiz, walk off home run. By the time we get to the World series they condense it to Johnny Damon's two home runs and then finale of Keith Foulke picking up the grounder to throw to first.<br><br>Although Keith did much more than toss over to first he will always be remembered as the last frame of my favorite movie. One that I will watch over and over until the Sox do it again next year.<br><br>Still wearing my 18 year old Red Sox Bat Tie.<br><br> Total Eclipse of moon over Boston ended four minutes after Keith Foulke tossed to first. (Good desktop pic.)<br><br><br><br>

Then I think you will love this book coming out soon! <br><br><br><br>Synopsis<br> Early in 2004, two writers and Red Sox fans, Stewart O'Nan and Stephen King, decided to chronicle the upcoming season, one of the most hotly anticipated in baseball history. They would sit together at Fenway. They would exchange emails. They would write about the games. And, as it happened, they would witness the greatest comeback ever in sports, and the first Red Sox championship in eighty-six years, as the team put '86 behind them and eighty-sixed the Curse.<br> <br> A-Rod. Schilling. Sheffield. Foulke. The hot stove league was smoking. In April, the Sox took six of seven from New York Yankees. Youkilis was the Greek God of Walks. Local boy Mark Bellhorn found his bat. June was a disaster. Then Nomar went to Chicago, Varitek shoved A-Rod, Billy Mueller proved to be a Yankee killer, and this team never looked back, logging an astounding August and a solid September to claim the wild card. In the playoffs they killed the Angels, then ran into those damn Yankees. Who saved the Pennant race? David Ortiz. Who hit the only grand slam? Johnny Damon. Who's your daddy? Papi is. Down three games to none, down to their last three outs, the Red Sox rose from the dead to make history. Nothing left to do but sweep up. What began as a Sox-filled summer like any other is now a fan's notes for the ages.<br><br><br>Formats Available<br> Hardcover: Scribner; (November 21, 2004)<br> Paperback: Scribner; (June 1, 2005)<br> Audio Cassette (Unabridged): Simon & Schuster Audio; (December 1, 2004)<br> Audio CD (Unabridged): Simon & Schuster Audio; (December 1, 2004)<br><br>

I knew Stephen King was writing a book but I didn't know the details. That is one book I will be waiting in line for. Thanks. The cover made my day. (Don't show it to Daddymac )<br><br><br><br><br><br>